


Your World Is Not My Own

by otakuashels



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Drama & Romance, F/M, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:57:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2528087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otakuashels/pseuds/otakuashels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(STORY HAS BEEN PICKED UP AGAIN.)</p><p>AU Victorian America. Mathew and Arthur are two of the common folks. The day is spent working so that you may survive unto the next. Francis and Alfred sleep upon feathered pillows and awake to a maid presenting them with that days ensemble. The only thing they have in-common is the all live in the same city. When two worlds collide, new worlds are created.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, thanks for reading! If this story gave you some enjoyment please leave a kudos, thanks!

“Honestly I thought today was never going to end” Arthur groaned as he dropped unto the mattress. The lumpy material molding itself about his thin frame as if accepting him as his own. Stretching, the crack of his back was lost among the knock of the rain against the one bed-roomed home. Pushing himself off his stomach and to his feet the Englishmen peeled his wet clothing from pale skin, wringing the clothes into a nearby standing bucket. Standing on his toes the Englishmen stretched his clothes about a rope that hung from one end of the room to the other, squeezing the last drops into the bucket as to keep the water off of the wooden floor. Pulling a dry shirt of a stack of neatly folded clothes he pulled it over, forever unruly hair. Rubbing at his arms, and praying thanks at the dry cloth that began to warm him almost immediately. A pleasant hum escaped his lips before the creak of the door caught his attention.

“Ah! Bonjour mon amie Arthur, you’re back early” the front door opened to reveal another man of blonde, yet with eyes of jasmine instead of emerald. The younger lad closed the door in haste behind him, struggling slightly with the packages in his arms.

“Ah good evening Mathew. Yes, the wind was becoming rather turbulent and with such rain they were worried that the cargo might get damaged so they closed the docks” Arthur moved forward to help the other inhabitant of the small house with his burden. Placing the parcels on the bed, he unwound the twine. “Ah the guys need more patchwork?” lifting up each piece of clothing from its confinement he examined each piece with a scrutinizing look. 

“Oui, apparently quite a fair amount of the blokes in the lumber yard had an incident yesterday, most of them being newly hired, single fellows. Hence none of them havin’ woman to mend their clothes, I happened to overhear them talking and offered them a solution. I do hope you don’t mind the mass amount?” Mathew explained, worry creeping into his voice towards the end as he completed the same drying ritual his friend had.

“I can see that” Arthur murmured turning his back as Mathew stripped down. No matter how well the two knew each other, some things were just rude, staring at another man as he changed being one of them. Sliding his hands along the rough material he inspected the mix of tunics and trousers for areas that needed attention. “These are going to require a bit of work”

“Ah, if you can’t get to them Arthur” Mathew stopped what he was doing to look at his friend with concern. Only moving to the stove top to begin dinner once his friend waved him off.

“Oh don’t worry yourself lad. It is quite fine, we should get a pretty penny out of all this work” grabbing a stool and a small box of needle and thread along with patches the Englishman propped himself on the furniture piece and began to stitch.

“That will be nice” 

“I wasn’t caught by surprise with the rain, though I heard even the captains were caught unaware at the strength of the gall” he paused listening to the sound of the rain once again, a sense of comfort running over his body. The sound of rain was comforting, it reminded him of his home in London. It was one of the few comforts, besides the sea that this place offered him. The Common Wealth of Massachusetts, a land in the New World, now the state of Massachusetts in America. The sea reminded him of home, which is why he chose dock work when he came to this newborn country. Listening absentmindedly he followed along with the humming that came from Mathew as he prepared their supper. Arthur had come from London whereas Mathew had come down from Quebec. The French speaking blonde was a kind fellow with a good heart, something Arthur appreciated with the upmost respect. “It really was a blessing that we ran into each other that day upon the docks”

“Ah yes” the laughter bubbled at the stove “It makes living much cheaper with another person. Plus” he added sheepishly “I am absolutely horrid when it comes to a needle and thread. You’re able to repair my clothing and almost make it look like new” 

“And you have saved me from the kitchen” Arthur sniffed with a slight annoyance. He had to admit, he was not the best cook but it was not the best of things when your dinner caught fire more often than not. But hey, he could make a mean cup of tea when he had the time to drink it. Plus Mathew was a whiz when it came to cooking, he made even the plainest of meals delicious. Looking up the brit found the other smiling brightly at him, he offered a small one in return before turning back to his work. I had been nearly a year since then and the two men had grown into close friends since then.

“I figured stew would be good on a night like this” Mathews soft voice came across much louder than it was in the small room as he distributed what he had been concocting in the pot into two plain bowls. Catching a piece of stray paper alight off the burner he walked about and lit the few candles placed strategically about the room. Folding the shirt on itself Arthur placed it beside his stool thanking the boy with much gratitude as he took the warm dish from him.

“Smells wonderful as always Mathew”

“Merci” Mathew pulled out another stool, settling it adjacent from his housemate. Looking upon the other man he watched the blonde eat with gusto, yet still managing to look prim and proper. Arthur had a knack for such things. Always stating ‘the British are a proper folk, everything is done the way it should be’. The man in question was a few years older than Mathew, yet by no means old. If Mathew remembered correctly Arthur was four years senior his nineteen. 

“Wonderful as expected” Arthur complimented after a swallowing a bite. The other smiled as he moved his spoon about the bowl. Arthur always complimented him on such simple things. The stew wasn’t hard, it literally was just a mixture of cheap spices, potatoes, carrots, onions and peas. He wished that they could afford something more so he could really show Arthur something that was worthy of the constant praise. Suddenly a rumble of thunder vibrated the house down to the core, shocking the two men. “Bless the Queen” Arthur murmured casting a glance at the candles that shivered in protest.

“I wonder if it shook even their homes” Mathew murmured only continuing at the puzzled glance Arthur tossed his way. “Those of the wealthy folk. We had a large group of them stop by the bakery this afternoon and they ordered so many things. It’s just been on my mind since then” he shrugged it off digging around for a potato chunk to munch on.  
“Even if it did they probably wouldn’t even notice” Arthur sniffed placing his bowl down beside his feet to once again pick up the tunic from the pile. “It could shake and ramble their homes until all of their fine china shattered and they wouldn’t even bat an eye for they would just send for more” he sniffed once again, a scowl upon his features. Arthur made no effort to hide his disdain for the nobles or higher parties of the country. In his opinion only the Queen and sections of her parliament could do no wrong. Every other individual was lily-liver’d. “Do you want to work on your English again tonight while I patch up these garments?” 

“Of course” Mathew winced standing up to scrub the dishes. Mathew knew English, yet had only learned the basics of street talk and wished that he knew more of the strange language. That’s where Arthur’s knowledge came in. Arthur was a well-read individual and his most prized positions being that of his books and pendant of his mothers.

“How about we read from Hamlet tonight lad” Arthur looked up momentarily.

“Sure” Mathew nodded making his way across the short distance to a box next to Arthur’s bed. Sifting through the books with great care he pulled out the well-read copy of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Making his way back to the stool he hunkered down for his readings. This was a common night for the pair, one sewing to help make ends meet while another studied a language for the land he now lived in. The time passed by with soothing sound of Mathews voice accompanied by the occasional hum of approval from the adjacent male. Glancing towards the candles Arthur finished off the last of the clothes folding them neatly. 

“Mathew let us call it a night. We need the energy tomorrow” standing up he stretched groaning as his back popped once again. Resorting the clothes he tied them off in bundles as Mathew placed the book back inside its crate. From there on the normal routine of preparing for bed continued on. Changing into night gowns that were folded at the end of the bed, laying out clothes for the working day to come, pulling back the blankets and blowing out the candles. “Good night Mathew”

“Good night Arthur” Mathew repeated as all talking ceased, the only sound was the pattering of the rain. Shifting in his bed Mathew pressed his cheek against his bicep. His mind traveling back over what had happened that morning, the group of nobles that had visited the shop. He felt a ting of jealousy in his chest. Arthur may have a strong hate for the wealthy but as for him he wanted what they had. Scratching his nose along his arm he heaved a silent sigh allowing his eyelids to slide shut, welcoming the wave of sleep wash over him.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the cheerful sound of birds outside of the window that alerted Arthur of the sunrise. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, naked feet hit cold floor, eliciting shivers. Exchanging the nightgown for a work days clothes. Pulling the blankets to a head he patted them straight as movement from the adjacent need alerted him off Matthew waking. "Good morning Matthew" Arthur greeted as he sat down to lace up heavy boots that day just above his ankles.

"Bonjour Arthur" a long yawn sounded in response amidst the rustling of sheets. 

"We are expecting a large shipment in today" Arthur sighed his footsteps loud in the room as he pulled out the lunch cloths. Long fingers scooped up an apple from the baskets next to the fireplace. From another he retrieved a handful of popovers, distributing them equally paired with an apple into each cloth, tying them securely. He reached over his shoulder handing one of them to Matthew.

"Merci beaucoup Arthur. I will you see you this evening" grabbing the small pack he bottled out the door shoving a cap upon his hair. The pair had found a small yet comfortable cheap abode not too far from the docks yet it was a fair distance for Matthew labored in another part of town a little over a mile away. Straightening a cap upon his own head, grabbing his own midday meal he exited the home nodding morning’s greetings to his neighbors. The sun that had been hidden all last afternoon was now comfortably perched in a seat of clouds. “Good morning Mrs. Wright. It looks as if today promises to be lovely”

“Good morning Arthur. Yes it looks as if it’s going to be very warm” the woman smiled balancing a baby on her hip as another clutched at her skirts, waving a hand thick with baby chub at the British man. Waving back at the small boy Arthur entered the bustle of the street, among the horses, carts and wealthy carriages. Shoving his free hand into the pocket of his trousers he allowed himself to be pulled along the stream of bodies that made their way towards the dock area. The sounds of four legged beasts mixed with the voices of men.

“Arthur there ya are. The boss wants to be getin’ started early today” a man with unruly brown hair stared at him from his perch upon a large crate his thick Irish accent permeating the air.

“Early again. This the fourth time this week William” Arthur sighed dropping his lunch and coat onto a pile with everybody else’s.  
“Is there any reason for this?” he proceeded to roll up his sleeves to elbow length. As many other male bodies congregated about the Irish man’s choice of seating.

“Well apparently da big guy’s son is supposed to be vistin’ today. Somtin’ about takin’ over ta business” 

“Mr. Jones son is coming to the docks himself?” Arthur stared at the Irishman as everyone else talked amongst themselves. “Well” he sighed “as long as the rich boy doesn’t get in our way” grabbing a pair of thick gloves and tucking them into his waist band and catching the chart from William. “Alright boys let’s get to work before the bosses yell at us” 

~ . ~

“Bonjour Monsieur” Mathew called as he dashed into the back of the bakery, dropping his lunch sac upon the counter, shedding his jacket.

“Good morning Mr. Williams” the head baker came around the corner laden with trays of raw loaves.

“What would you have me do first” pulling his apron over his head and knotting it he followed his boss Tying back chin length hair, as much as possible, and took two of the trays from the man.

“Go ahead and fill the oven, then go and line the baskets. I’ve already lit the oven”

“Yes sir” Mathew nodded making his way back to the stove oven set inside the brick, red and rough, of the back wall. With practiced ease the Quebec native loaded three soft loaves of dough onto the wooden peel. Kneeling onto the outcropping of brick he slid the loaves into the oven and shutting it with a shove. Hopping off, he dropped the peel back on the table and squatted down pulling out several folded clothes. Standing on his toes he reached to the shelf a head taller than him and pulled forth a stack of wicker baskets. Taking each he lined them quickly with the cloths he stacked them once more and tucked them beneath his arm. Moving to the front of the store, just behind the counter he turned to the slots on the wall and slid the baskets into the open slots in the wall. Outside of the shop where the young male worked, the noise grew steadily louder as shops began to open, finished with their preparations for the day ahead. 

The shop that he was working in was small yet comforting. The floor was made of uneven smooth stones that were a pain to clean. The floor was the same all the way from the back and out into the front where the customers waited. In the middle was a chipped counter in front of a wall with slots for baskets of all sorts of bread and sweets. It was comfortable and always smelled of heavenly tastes.Dropping a basket he bent down, a glint catching his eye. The store keys lay on the front counter. Pulling an apron from underneath the counter he knotted it about his waist, grabbing the keys he deposited them into one of the two pockets as well as grabbing one of the baskets and bringing it back with him. Moving to the back of the store he pulled open the oven, wrapped his hands in a cloth and changed out the baked loaves for raw dough. “Heavenly” he breathed, a smile of delight turning up the corners of his mouth as their smell permeated the air. Sliding in the soon to be baked baguettes he slammed the door shut and slid the loaves into the basket he rounded the corner. “Mon dieu!” lurching backwards he bumped into the wall. A man stood on the opposite side of the counter an amused look upon his face. Clutching at his chest Mathew coughed to cover up his embarrassment. “Um Bonj- good morning sir, excuse me but we aren’t open yet”

“Vous Parlez Francais?” ( You speak French? )

“I” Mathew was speechless as he finally, really looked at the unexpected customer. Tall in stature, with a look upon his face that one could only describe as subtle determination. One gloved hand slid fingers through lengthy blonde, only to rest upon a firm jaw that displayed the beginnings of a shadow. Eyes that might as well have been made of sapphires matched the coat that adorned a narrow waist…Wait….a blue coat!? Mathew swallowed. This man wasn’t just any customer, this man was an aristocrat. Yet, the waist coat he sported beneath his arm, the gloves on his hands and the top hat he carried were not of the style he was used to seeing around these parts. “Your French” he stated bluntly, immediately becoming horrified he apologized, yet it fell upon deaf ears as the man laughed.

“Oh you are quiet alright” the man laughed. “Oui I’m French. You also speak the language of l’amour”love he stepped right up to the counter a quizzical expression upon his face “But your accent is one I am not familiar with. 

“Ah, I’m from Quebec” Mathew murmured quietly, putting the basket in its place. 

“Quebec! Regretfully I have not been to your home”

“That is quite-“Mathew stopped talking as a crash sounded from the back. “Monsieur Wright!” turning heal he dashed to the back to find the man teetering behind a large stack of dishware. Reaching forward he quickly pulled a section into his own hold. “You did not harm yourself did you?” he peered around his stack to look at his employer.

“I’m fine.” The older man huffed, depositing his stack upon the waiting table. Mathew followed suit, dusting his hands off on his apron. 

“Sir, this may not be the best of time” he brushed stray hair from his forehead as the man turned grumpy eyes upon him “But there is a man in the front of the store” 

“Well we are not open! Tell him that we are closed!”

“I know sir” he muttered “But it is an aristocrat”

“An aristocrat, well I-“ his eyes widened in horror. Making haste for the front Mathew followed the store owner as he greeted the stranger. “Mr. Bonnefoy! Good morning! Forgive me for my tardiness! I did not forget that you were coming but I lost track of time!” as the older man apologized, Francis just waved his hand in careless dismal.

“Monsieur Wright, let by gone’s be by gone’s it is quite alright. I am just needed those dessert orders that I placed for I am entertaining a lovely lady and her sisters at mid noon.” He smiled and Mathew swore the man winked his way.

“Ah. Yes! Mr. Bonnefoy right away. Mr. Williams follow me please!” gesturing to his employee Wright moved once more to the back as Mathew followed. Grabbing three baskets from the storage shelving in the rear Mathew noticed the large sweet order that he had filled the previous night. It had been his first time making them and frankly, to think that an aristocrat would be eating these made his stomach burn with nervousness. Barely registering returning to the front he placed the basket upon the counter, startled when Bonnefoy lifted the cloth covering the basket.

“Mon dieu! These look magnifique!” magnificent! “What are they again?” he asked truthfully, smiling at the pair. “All I know is that Monsieur Wright couldn’t stop talking about his knew apprentice and how talented he was with his sweets.”

“Uh” Mathew ignored the heat that crawled up his neck.

“Go on boy. Tell the good man what they are! Ill got switch out the breads” Wright clapped Mathew upon the shoulder as he disappeared, leaving the two alone once more.

“Um they are Pets de Soeur” Mathew murmured rubbing his arm “It’s not that great” he muttered and France just smiled. Eyeing the sweet he took a bite from the pastry, eyes widening with a shimmer of delight.

“Delicious!” Francis exclaimed, eyes darting up to the fellow across the counter. “Francis” he smiled.

“Pardon?” 

“Francis” he repeated taking another bite, chewing with relish. Swallowing he cast a beguiling smile across the counter. “Je m’applle Francis Tu t’appelle comment? I would be delighted if you would call me Francis” (my name is Francis. What is yours?) he smiled looking over the treat as he took another bite. “Exquisite”

“Ah” coloring, Mathew rubbed his hands together, nervously glancing towards the back. “The pastries aren’t that good. My name is Mathew"

“Mon amie…alright let’s pretend I’m only talking about the pastry then”

“M-moneiuer Bonnefoy” he stammered and the man chuckled.

“Oh mon dieu Mr.Williams is learning new things” Francis smiled and Mathew swore that the frenchman’s voice dropped a few octaves.

“…” Mathew could only stare in shock as Wright came around the corner.

“Would you like me to place these in your carriage Mr. Bonnefoy?” the middle-aged baker smiled as he came back to the front, stacking the baskets and moving to lift them.

“Mr. Wright let me carry that” the Canadian moved forward to take the load. Hefting the order into his own arms he peered at Francis, blinking away embarrassment.

“Ah yes. Thank you” Francis smiled with a wink at the boy pulling his gloves on with a flash of arrogance. With a crook of the finger he all but sashayed from the shop. Quickly and quietly Mathew followed him out of the shop. The carriage outside only solidified the impact, that Francis was indeed an aristocrat. The footman atop his seat leapt off and quickly made his way to open the door.

“Place the basket inside. I am going to be a naughty boy and snack on those lovely bites on the way back” Francis smiled, brushing off imaginary dust from his sleeve. The street hustled about them going on with their daily lives. Winking at the Canadian Francis held a finger to his lips “Let’s keep my little secret between us no?” hoisting himself into the carriage. Stepping forward with sudden boldness a question burned the tip of his tongue, Mathew spoke up

“Monsieur Bonnefoy-“

“Francis”

“Ah-F-Francis” blushing horribly he rubbed the back of his neck. Such familiarity after meeting a man an aristocrat no less than an hour was a bit uncomfortable. To say the least. “I-I am surprised you came on your own to the shop. May I ask why?” 

“I was intrigued” Francis smiled as his servant closed his door and headed for the reigns once more.” Leaning outside the window Francis smiled “I was intrigued for Monsieur Wright kept talking about how his newest apprentice was so very talented. I’ve had Mr. Wrights make deliveries to my mansion since the week I started staying here and if he is so excited about you then it was more than worth my time to stop by”

“Ah” Mathew blinked in surprise.

“And it was totally worth it” Francis smiled propping his chin into the palm of his hand he smiled at him. “I think that it was a most brilliant investment. Au revoir Till we meet again Mathew” good bye with that the carriage pulled away. That left Mathew staring after the carriage in the middle of the street.

~.~

“One…two…three” Arthur shouted and three others plus the British man hefted a large crate off the dock and began moving it to a busy gangplank of a waiting ship. It wasn’t long before Arthur made his way back to the table of charts and logs. The dock was made was made of smells, saltwater, fish and the working sweat of men. Shouts and orders filled the air amongst the screams of thieving seagulls. Some shouts faded to hushed conversations as heals of men’s shoes clicked against the sea sodden wood. Ocean wind whipped hair over eyes that challenged the blue of the waves rumbling below. Holding the purple colored hat upon his head, long legs carried the young man swiftly across the stretch of dock to the log keeper.

“Mr. Howard!” he shouted as he approached, the smile on his face widening as he stopped in front of the log keeper and one of what looked like, his higher ranked workers. Hearing the loud voice Arthur turned around with irritation one fist fixed upon his hip. He had been having an important conversation with Mr. Howard before he was rudely interrupted. This rude man deserved a tongue lashing, yet the scolding never traveled past his lips as he caught sight of the new arrival. The young man nodded with a polite smile defeating his features. This bot dressed in finery could only be one person. “Master Jones” he said smoothly, voice clipped.

“Ah! You’re British” Jones exclaimed with reserved surprise. Looking at Mr. Howard “I didn’t know you had a British man working for you”

“Ah Master Jones” Howard swallowed “Pardon, but-“

“Master Jones is my father” he waved his hand with a quick flick of the wrist “Alfred would be just fine”

“Ah Master Alfred” Howard swallowed nervously as Alfred looked away from him to the shorter stature man.

“What is your name?” he asked, catching Arthur off guard.

“Master Jones” he said carefully. What was this aristocrat playing at? There was no benefit for this man to know his name, he would gain nothing from it. With a polite nod he spoke once more. “My name is Arthur Kirkland” he looked at the boy with guarded politeness. 

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Kirkland, I assume, by the paperwork you are holding that you are of importance to Mr. Howard so we shall cross paths again. A certain light seemed to spark in the boys eyes at that last statement, yet it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Oy! Arthur can we get another set of hands o’er here!” a voice sounded across the way. Looking to Howard for permission Arthur nodded to the aristocrat with hidden distaste, folded the papers, shoved them in his trouser pockets and left to go take care of his duties.

“How long has he been here Howard?” Alfred asked, eyes following the blonde as he jogged up a gangplank. 

“About a year ago he came under my employment”

“With that accent he must be from London”

“Um. I think so. Master Jones may I ask your interest in Mr. Kirkland?”

“Well if I am going to be learning more about running this section of business I should know the names of the gentlemen that I will be speaking with should I not?” he peered at the commoner in a way that one could take away as challenging.

“O-Of course not Master Jones! Whatever you deem as appropriate is the upmost of great ideas” the man stammered nervousness causing hands to wring and eyes to flit about in panic.

“Calm down Mr. Howard and let me get a look at the logbook”

~.~

Settling down on a stuffed sack Arthur stifled a groan, placing his lunch bundle on his knees. Sometimes he wondered if he was getting older than he actually was. Pulling the knot loose he pulled a popover out of the sack offering a half smile to William as he began to eat. He only half listened to the conversations that swelled about him, the rhythm and flow of the conversations reminded him of when the tide came in and he found that if one was not careful one’s own thoughts could be swept away in the mess. Chewing thoughtfully his thoughts became wistful for one of his books back at home. The young man preferred to take his meals in quiet, it was a time for thoughts and savoring’s, rather than all the hustle and bustle that was currently around him. 

The office is quiet and I need to look over that last set of logs before it is handed in. The though crossed his mind and mere seconds later he found himself knotting off his cloth, rubbing his fingers clean on the edges. Pushing on his knees he got back to his feet and moved way to the keeper’s office. “Ah…Master Jones” Arthur looked on in surprise and dismay as he walked into the man sitting in a straight backed chair, clutching at his sleeve.

“Mr. Kirkland, pleasure to see you again” the man out of placed had set his hat upon the desk, in front of him, legs lacking no distance were stretched out in comfort. 

“Is something the matter Master Jones?” he questioned, stiff as he moved into the office, shutting the door behind him.

“Ah well” the younger abashed, lifting his right arm he revealed a gaping tear in his sleeve. “I seem to have caught my sleeve on something and tore it” he had the grace of casting a sheepish grin towards him.

“You seem to have caught yourself right” moving further into the room Arthur placed his sack upon the corner of the bulky wooden desk. Yet’ Arthur's mind was not as polite. ‘Serves yourself right. Your aristocrats should say where you belong’ no hostility was apparent on the blondes face as he pulled a drawer, plucking out a bobbin and needle. He didn’t fancy helping the boy but there was a better chance of him leaving him alone to do his work if he did. “Master Jones I could mend that for you until you return to your home” expensive bastard will probably chuck it and get another one.

“You can sew?” Alfred stared at him with a look of mild surprise.

“Of course I can” Arthur spat out before he could stop himself “Do you think me daft?” he sealed his lips, horrified with himself. To think he just napped at a person of himself. To think he had just snapped at a person of such higher status than himself. It was the laughter that broke the Briton from his revere.

“Honestly! It’s about time you finally said something!” the wealthy blonde laughed loudly, his polite mask falling away. “I was wondering if I would ever get to see any emotion underneath the respective façade.

“Façade!” Arthur grunted, his collar seemingly becoming tighter. This man was making fun of him!

“Yes, that very calm façade! I could tell something else was behind that mask. I am sorry sir but it is a good thing your profession is not an actor” Alfred laughed as he shrugged out of his jacket handing it to the male. The Englishman bristled silently as he fought against yanking the jacket from its owner’s hand. Biting his tongue he moved as far away from the aristocrat to settle down into a seat.

“So you sew?”

“Of course I sew!” he grouched. “Now if you would please let me focus so I do not mar your clothes any further!”

“Of course” silence fell over the two in the room as Arthur stitched and Alfred observed. Arthur was delighted with the soft cloth as is slid over his fingers, forearms and pooled into his lap. It was much softer than the fabric Arthur was used to dealing with. It took no time at all before Arthur snapped the thread free of the jacket. Sliding the needle along the bobbins and wrappings of thread where it wouldn’t be jostled, he turned to scrutinize his handy work. Seemingly satisfied he got to his feet once more, crossing the room to hand the article of clothing back to its owner.

“Thank you” Alfred smiled turning his attention to the sleeve. “Wow! I can barely see where the rip was!” the young men appeared to be rather stunned and Arthur fought down the smug grin the threatened upon his face. Alfred slumped back against the straight back of the chair he continued to look over the purple colored fabric. Long fingers slid over where the stitch was.

“I did not boast Master Jones. I can sew”

“Yes that you can. I do apologize” he muttered, a peculiar look crossing his features.

“Oy Arthur!” the door swung open. William shouted his way inside the room “Oh. Master Jones I didn’ know you be in here” the Scotsman stopped in his tracks, eyes switching between Arthur and the other man.

“Of course. To work again. Let us go” Arthur grabbed up his items and with a nod at the blonde aristocrat followed his coworker out the door. The boy, left behind stared at the pair with a confusing mixture of emotions upon his features.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here is the next chapter. Leave a kudo, comment and ENJOY.   
> Thanks,

"Honestly today was a bloody hell of a mess" Arthur groaned closing the door behind him with a heavy boot. Raking his hands through his hair, he shook out the moisture that had gathered in his hair. He usually returned from the docks a tad on the damp side but this evening the clouds that had been rolling about in the sky had decided to drizzle on his walk home. The British man was immediately enveloped with scents that alerted him a pleasing meal was to be his for dinner.

"Bonjour Arthur" Mathew looked over his shoulder at the other blonde as the newly arrived leant against the wall to unlace his boots.

"Good evening Mathew. How did the day treat you?" shrugging off his coat, he hung it upon a nail pounded into the wood of the wall.

"To be quiet honest my day was a rather odd one of sorts" he admitted as he distributed what seemed to be another potato heavy stew into two bowls. "An aristocrat came to the store to pick up an order. He actually came to pick it up himself"

"Is that right?" Arthur looked shocked as he settled into his stiff wooden chair at the foot of the hearth. "That is quite odd. Did he say why? Thank you." He took the bowl from Mathew, inhaling the scent with subtle glee.

"He said that Mr. Wright had been talking about me and that for some reason" he sat in his own chair, a quizzical look upon his round face. Mathew was not a chubby man by any means, but seems as if he would forever have baby fat in his cheeks. "He just had to meet me in person. He seemed almost enamored by the goods." Eyes a peculiar shade of blue, almost to be mistaken for purple turned to Arthur. He seemed perplexed and slightly embarrassed as his mind traveled along the day of events.

"Well don't go off with him" Arthur smirked "Your my house mate and I am also extremely fond of your cooking and don't plan to allow you to flit off with some aristocrat" he turned back to his meal mouth pursing in response to his own confusion. "This is rather peculiar" Arthur scooped another mouthful and chewed thoughtfully. "I also had an encounter with one of them today" a sneer of displeasure curling his lips.

"Really?" Mathew looked up with genuine surprise "on the docks? I'm even more surprised that they would be at the docks, I mean it's not the cleanest place"

"I really wish that we would have stayed away" Arthur scoffed "You know that Master Jones that I work for?" Arthur paused long enough to allow Mathew to nod in acknowledgment before continuing. "Well apparently his son is learning how to run some of the family business so for some bloody reason he decided that he had to physically show up and get in the way" he scowled.

"Maybe he was just really excited to start learning" Mathew offered and shrugged as Arthur gave him an incredulous look.

"It is possible" the Canadian shrugged once more. The brit heaved a sigh before turning back to his dinner, eating as quietly as he observed the new stack of packages assuming it could only be clothes, at the end of Mathew's bed.

"Honestly these boys seem to go through clothes faster than the dock goes through dried trousers."

"Yeah" Mathew laughed sheepishly "but they said they like the way that your patches hold fast so it's less of a hassle. Those clothes are from some new guys" he stirred his food shoulders shrugging.

"I honestly hope that the brat stays off of the deck! I don't want him to get in the way of our work. I really don't have time to babysit the brat"

"He couldn't have been that bad Arthur" Mathew protested but then shrugged as the British man gave him a strong glare. Slumping down slightly in the old wooden chair Mathew turned his attention to the fire that hummed along to itself as it munched on the logs that fueled it. He was vaguely aware of Arthur putting down his bowl in exchange for a needle and thread. Once again a familiar calmness settled over the small home as the few evening activates the pair normally participated in proceeded. Getting to his feet he grabbed their dishes and made his way to the washing bin, dropping them in and lowering his own body to his knees, mind skittering down its own unbidden path. Unlike Arthur he had been rather thrilled about the current day's turn of events.

Yes it was odd and yes it disrupted his morning, but it made for a thrilling sort of day. Outside of the Canadians control his mind painted a picture of the man who he had exchanges with. Francis definitely was a noble. Even in the dress of the common rabble he was sure the Frenchman would have stood out like a wolf among sheep. The male practically oozed higher-class, almost making it a perfume. From his posture to his attitude, Francis was the interesting fellow. Mathew observed the lye hardened water as scrubbed the dishware, elbow deep inside of the mix. Francis was odd enough to have made his own way into the shop. He mused. And then for him to insist they be on a first name basis right after a first meeting and for them being of such different statuses. The heat crawled up the back of his neck as he continued to recant the day's events.

"Mathew are you planning to read this evening?" Arthur's voice brought him back to current time.

"Ah no" he rocked back on his heals looking over at his friend. "For some reason I don't think that I will be able to remain stationary until we take to bed. I think I'm going to give attention to the floors"

"Alright then" the older blonde nodded his attention turning back to his hand busy activity. As Mathew got the broom Arthur's mind lulled into a steady stream of thought. After much practice, performance needle and thread had become an extension of his own body movements. He gave not much more thought to sewing than did he to breathing. It was calming, centralizing and allowed him to mentally journal the day's events. Arthur was pleased really that Mathew's encounter had turned out rather pleasantly unlike his. Though the boy had an advantage for him as he all but romanticized the aristocrats and the world that they presided in. From what Arthur had gathered the boy had little to no interactions with aristocrats from his childhood Quebec.

The lucky lad. Arthur had experienced way too much of their pomposity back in London. But at least in London, half of the fools had at least some right to their attitudes, being nobility and all. The aristocrats here in America had only gained status do to wealth, which more than likely they had achieved from their ancestors, which had been British. The wankers were cheating. That Alfred brat was cheating. Arthur found his hand stilling as the boy halted the trail his mind had taken a hike along. Honestly! First he disrupted him at work and now he was disrupting him in his own mental home! Arthur couldn't help but scowl at the patch he was working on. Honestly if his temper was its own being the fabric would have been shredded like a big beneath a large cats claws, squealing and twitching. Crossing his legs Arthur attempted to get back into focus, he really wanted to get these patches down before he went to rest. Resolving not to think about the obtrusive lad anymore, he turned eye to needle and ear to surroundings, a mixture of grumbling flames and the scratch of their hay bound broom against the floor as Mathew swept. That night neither of the two occupants fell asleep with haste, as minds whirled over uncommon occurrences….

~.~

"That should be the last of the orders Mr. Wright" Mathew shouted as he nursed off the last two loaves from the peel and into the oven. Pushing shut the door and propping the wood contraption on the brick Mathew stuck his head out the back door where Mr. Wright loaded the single mule drawn cart with wicker baskets and cloth made parcels. "Monsieur Wright?"

"I heard you lad!" the store owner barked dropping down from the cart with a grunt. Beating his hands clean upon his trousers the older man looked at Mathew with a tired look. "Today's gonna be long day Mr. Williams. Fetch me the last basket, what just went in won't be picked up until after mid-day." He sighed watching the younger of the two males disappeared back through the doorway only to appear moments later, hoping down the steps, and load heavy in his arms. "Now make sure the front is thoroughly stocked, in case you get a rush. I'll be back when I finish but till then I need ya to mind the store and customers"

"No surprises today?" Mathew asked as he watched the storeowner heave his body onto the seat, reins in fist.

"Not that I know of" Wright shrugged tightening the length, alerting the animal is was time to leave.

"Alright sir" he nodded moving back into the store rubbing his hands along the thick themes of his pants the grate of the wheels becoming a near distant memory. From then, body movements fell into pattern. The constant jingle of the keys in his pockets sounded along with humming as the store became dressed for the day. The smell of bread swelling about the small building lulled him with comfort. Slipping into the back he removed the last of the bread from the stone oven that was to be baked this morning. Moving about the front and around the counter he dug into his pocket, the lock jabbered in protest as he removed the protection and pushed open the door shoving the large seated rock upon the steps in front of it. The sharp bite of cool morning air was a steep contrast to the warm air of the bakery, causing the man to give a quick shudder. Yet the sun spilled into the street with great intensity, promising that the afternoon was to be hot and muggy.

"Bonjour. Covered in flour this early Mathew?" a voice stood out from the deafening noise of the street. Mathew halted in his trek back into the store. Even after only encountering the voice once before Mathew knew exactly who it was.

"Bonjour. Monsieur Bonnefoy" he turned around completely, startled as he realized the man was not alone. Francis poised upon the bottom step, and behind him a hairs breath away stood a man with hair of white and eyes, eyes a bleeding red. "Um pardon Monsieur Francis" he corrected himself quickly at the look the Frenchman gave him.

"Bon" he smiled then gestured back to the man at his rear. "I have brought with me mon cher amie Monsieur Beilshmeidt" my dear friend.

"It a pleasure to meet you" Mathew nodded offering his hand forward "Williams, Mathew Williams"

"Awesome!" the albino gripped his hand shaking his hand exuberantly he had an accent of thick and guttural nature. "So you're the boy Francis gushed about" he laughed staring at him with scrutiny. "You're the one who made the köstlicher Genuss"

"Excuse me" Mathew stammered and then it clicked. The strange words and the heaviness that came along with it. "Oh you're German!" he exclaimed quietly.

"Close!" he laughed "I'm an awesome Prussian!" he laughed smirking at the Canadian, hands propping upon male narrow hips. Eyes of violet widened as he took in the two aristocrats stationed before him with pride. The pair was flamboyant in air and display, distracting Mathew for a moment before a valid question floated to the surface of his mind.

"Um may I ask why you are here?" he asked bluntly, mildly surprising himself. He looked up quickly from the men as a group of people began to gather along the other shops staring and whispering to each other, pointing to the bakery. "U-um please come inside quickly" he swept his arm towards the interior, welcoming the two men across the threshold. He followed the two aristocrats into his workplace, cheeks heated harshly.

"I wanted more of those things" Beilshmedit responded lounging against the counter looking about with what appeared to be amused interest.

"B-but I haven't made any" Mathew swallowed as Francis made an unhappy noise deep within his throat. Rubbing at his arm nervously, Mathew looked between the two. "If you place an order I should be able to fulfill it by tomorrow" he gave a small smile turning to look at Francis. The Frenchmen was looking at him with arched brows, a smirk upon his features.

"So we came out here for nothing Francis" Beilshmedit groaned turning to look out the window at the people milling about that.

"Oh Gilbert do stop being so dramatic." Francis brushed a stray lock of blonde over shoulders widespread. "This was not a complete waste by any means we did get to see a lovely individual" he smiled, the expression only strengthening in response to blood filled cheeks. "But if our main errand is to be unfulfilled I guess that we should be on our way" he sighed tapping his cheek with exaggerated melancholy.

"Well let's be on our way then." Gilbert shrugged pushing off of the counter his spine once again become rigid, proper "Pleasure to meet you Mr. Williams" the hat that had been tucked away at his waist was once again propped upon his head as he emerged out into the street.

"Well it seem I will be parting Monsieur Mathew" Francis smiled stepping into the door well. "It is quiet improper for gentlemen to tell falsehood but I fear I am inside of one" he mocked guilt.

"Pardon" Mathews brow scrunched with true confusion.

"I did not come for the sweets Monsieur. Good day" with a wave he also exited the building with flourish. It was the second time in two days that the Canadian found himself at a loss for words and in a wash of astonishment.

"Mathew?"

"Uh" looking over Mathew was facing Madam Spencer standing in the doorway.

"Dear did I come at a bad time?" the older woman looked upon with mild concern. It was the basket in the crook of her arm that spurred him into action.

"You're here for your rolls" moving quickly about the counter he turned to a basket. "Pardon. An acquaintance popped in for an unannounced visit and caught me unaware. Let me get your normal pickup"

~.~

Perusing the documents splayed across the desk, a heavy scowl was upon Arthur's face. "Someone missed a log" he frowned pulling a fountain from the drawer at his right hip. Scrawling some notes upon a scrap of paper as he flipped through the documents. "Someone is going to get thoroughly reprimanded for this"

"I honestly would not be on the other end of a tongue lashing from you"

"Bloody hell!" Arthur jolted back, nearly tripping over the chair at his knees. He had been so absorbed in his work that he hadn't even heard the door open. The British man barely withheld the groan of despair as he was left looking at the wide grin of Alfred Jones.

"You have returned once again Master Jones" he straightened, laying the pen down on the desk. "What do I owe this…pleasure?"

"Honestly" Alfred sighed pushing the door shut behind him. "Don't sound so pleased to see me" he smirked moving forward. "Actually I just got done talking with Mr. Howard, I am in need of looking at the logs for the docks" his footsteps weighed heavy across the floor as he moved towards the desk, pulling the tall hat from his head.

"Well the most recent ones are here" Arthur sighed bending at the waist retrieving a key from his pocket and unlocking the bottom drawer. Nimble fingers clutched at multiple thick files, crinkling at his touch. Placing the files upon the desk he patted the stack with nonchalance "I am just about done here Master Jones, I will be out of your way an you can have the area to yourself."

"Ah that's actually not what I came here today for" Alfred responded as he approached the desk, placing the hat upon it and staring into Arthurs face. "I am here to do work about the logs, but not to pour over them by myself. I have come here for verbal teachings" he straightened his cuffs with what could only be described as a haughty manner, looking over at Arthur he leant over the bulky desk ever so slightly "And Mr. Howard found it to be rather appropriate for you to step off the docks and work with me today" he smirked "So I think we should head out rather promptly"

"You can't be serious" Arthur gaped at the man.

"Oh I am quite serious Mr. Kirkland" there was that bright smile once more "And frankly I have no appetite for the scenery here today so we will be taking my personal carriage to a separate location." He moved back from the desk towards the door "Shall we? Tardiness is something that I believe the both of us frown upon"

"But" the excuse faltered upon Arthur's lips as he stared after the man. Today had begun with proving to be fruitful and then was quickly interrupted with the intrusion of a prettily feathered aristocrat. He found his feet weighted to the floor by the heaviness that slid into his stomach as his day was suddenly taken from him. No matter how much he wanted to refuse he had no right to. This man was as much of his boss as his father was at the moment. A refusal could cost him his work and if there was one thing that Arthur couldn't afford, being jobless was at the top of the list. Swallowing the sigh that threatened to escape Arthur moved around the desk grabbing up the hat the boy had left as well as his coat. Extending it to the man he was careful to keep his expression neutral "Of course Master Jones." He gripped the door knob tighter than necessary and pulled open the door "After you"

"Well" Alfred snorted softly passing Arthur "this day proves to be rather interesting"

"Of course" Arthur muttered following the man out. The sound of the deck that had been blocked by the closed door now slammed into at full force. He offered a wave at William who responded with a confused expression. Arthur merely shrugged his small frame into his coat and followed the younger man across the docks, a pleading look tossed towards Mr. Howard hoping that this had all been a misunderstanding. Yet the dock manager offered no sort of relief for the unwilling dock worker and turned his attention from the uncommon pair and returned to shouting orders. With a final drop of dread in his stomach Arthur realized that he was stuck in the situation, all exits blocked. He quickened his pace with a scowl, Jones's legs carrying him with a much quicker pace with unaltered ease. Following at a higher pace Arthur scowled as they approached a tall carriage reigned to horses, impressive in size.

The man stationed at their heads moved forwards and pulled open the door with a nod. Pulling himself up Alfred lowered himself into the seats gesturing for Arthur to do the same. With a scowl Arthur waved off the hand offered to him by Jones's servant and jumped into the carriage grabbing the doors so that he did not teeter out. Lowering himself down into the dark colored seat across from the boy crossing his arms as he quietly observed the interior. The fabric the seats were covered in, velvet, the curtains along the windows, a heavy cotton, all of them and the rest of the fabric down to the tassels were extremely high quality. His fingers itched to rub along the seams and expanse. Good fabric was expensive and hard to come by even at the local market, not that he could afford any of it anyway.

"You're like a bird" Alfred commenting, jerking the Englishmen's attention forward.

"Pardon!?" he huffed "Are you insulting me?"

"Of course not" Alfred countered quickly, his chin propped upon his hand. "It was a compliment. Your remind me of a…Robin. Not a loud or large creature. But one of cunning and much talent amongst its kind" he smiled looking back at the man who was red and gaping at him.

"Honestly" Arthur grunted looking out the window" I don't know where you get off on flattery. Is this not supposed to be teaching day of sorts?"

"Of course" Alfred smiled looking at the flustered man. "We are on our way now."

"Where are we headed for?"

"My personal manor" Alfred smiled watching the plainly clothed male from the corner of his eye. Arthur stared at him, a surprised expression blatant across his face which didn't surprise Alfred in the least. The fact that a common folk would have access to an aristocrat's home went against normal societal expectations. Catching the dock worker off guard was something had managed to do several times over the last two days, the man's expressions were priceless, entertaining. Emotions rolled beneath the carefully structured façade of politeness that culture called upon Arthur to face Alfred with. It was an amusing show to watch but the boy of twenty years was positive that it would be much more amusing to see them with curtains pulled way. For the rest of the ride to Alfred's living space a silence settled over them like the weight of a heavy woolen blanket, not necessarily uncomfortable but at times unbearably itchy. By the time that the carriage had pulled itself round on the packed dirt of the pull up leading to Alfred's abode both males found themselves yearning to stretch their legs, hoping to relieve some of the emotional discomfort they had been soaking in.

Curious eyes made their way to the manor that he had been forced to arrive at. It was exactly as he had expected. It was excessive in size, the pointed tops of multiple layered roof poked at the sky. The structure basked in the warmth the sun's rays as it heated the bricks of deep maroon that constructed the building. The doors of ocean foam white opened as a man, dressed in a butlers garb descended the stairs and moved towards the carriage. Brushing off the footman's hand Arthur followed Alfred from the carriage with yet another silent sigh.

"Good afternoon Master Jones, a meal for two has been set upon the table just moments before your arrival as per your request" the man bowed, stiff, tall, short spoken.

"Oh perfect, much appreciated Berwald" Alfred smiled as he moved into the front hall, Arthur at his feels an uneasy look upon his features as the same courtesy was extended to him as well. The interior was as gorgeous as the outside of the home, tall and details throughout, even down to the trim along the floor. The house gave an air of comfort, everything done in soft blues and greens, from the tapestry to the carpet.

"Like what you see?" Alfred looked over his shoulder with an amused expression.

"It's very…how should I put this" Arthur seemed to be searching for a word "Modern. I guess you could say that" he looked at the other for a response as they followed the butler into the dining room. As to be expected a long table was stationed in the belly of the room with two place settings, adjacent at the heads. Arthur slipped into one with unease. He had half a mind to argue about the unnecessary actions being performed today. He should be at the docks working, not sitting around with some pedestal placed brat. His sour mood did not go un-noticed by his host as their first dish was brought to them.

"Honestly Arthur. There is no reason that you should be in any sort of unpleasant feelings for you are very attentive to your job and today your job is me" Alfred lifted the glass of wine placed at his right hand before taking sip.

"And fine dining is required of my job Master Jones?" Arthur responded curtly, consuming his own beverage none the less.

"Today it is Mr. Kirkland" Alfred scowled back. If this guy refused to be friendly with him in the realms of names and societal games than he will become the Briton's second player. Not one of his acquaintances could say that Alfred F. Jones had every backed down from a challenge, unspoken or not. Turning his attention back to the plate Alfred was pleased to see the savory soup placed in porcelain bowls in front of them.

"Well if that is what I must do then I shall attend to it with my full attention" with ease Arthur never broke eye contact with the aristocrat as he moved the soup into his mouth. His eyes lids fluttered with pleasure as his senses were flood the familiar, yet missed taste. It was a Brown Windsor soup, something that been a favorite of his mothers, something that he had consumed back home in London with nary a sign of growing tired of the dish. No man would ever get him to admit it but at that time he was rather pleased that he had been dragged across the city to dine.

"Talk about business shall we Mr. Kirkland?"

"To talk about business over dinner to a guest would certainly sour the meal would it not Master Jones?" Arthur smoothed, biting down a haughty expression that threatened his features in response to the surprised one painted across the others.

"Well do forgive me" Alfred stated slowly, realizing that his current opponent was not one that was to be taken light of. "I guess you are right. Things such as that are not polite dinner conversation. But I however am uncertain of what exactly the two of us can converse about" Alfred watched as the man across from him chewed with content that blanketed delight. A small sense of victory wormed its way into the aristocrat's breast. He would have to file that dish away inside his mind as something that he could use later. Arthur was pleased to find that the American aristocrat had fallen silent, occupied with the task at hand.

A silence that contained no uneasiness or comfort fell over the room. It wasn't either, it just was. It also wasn't long before the first course had been cleared away, followed by steamy vegetables thick with butter and spices. The pattern continued on throughout the length of the meal. The courses were exchanged out and mixed with banter as the two males attempted to outwit the other in an unspoken competition that entertained the pair as well as the attendants. It was not long before the pair was guided into a plush sitting room where coffee and tea was brought forth upon silver platters.

"Well let's get down to business shall we" Arthur stated as he peered over the rim of the porcelain cup, nursing the steaming liquid.

"Quick to the point" Alfred observed as he watched a maid scoop sugar into his coffee. Arthur was content to watch the scene unravel before him. He had been unable to complete any of the courses that had been brought to the table. And even though he had ate sparingly his stomach, still full and left the man with a temptation of sleep.

"Well I know how to read log books already" Alfred shrugged partaking of his own beverage. This made the Englishman alert, lowering his cup.

"You what?" Arthur stared. "You must be joking"

"No" Alfred shrugged leaning back against the tall cushioned chair with a playful smile upon his face. "I was brought up being taught how to take the family business. My father and I are quite close so he even taught me himself."

"So what was all of this then!?" Arthur snapped placing his saucer and cup rather hard upon the side table.

"…." He smiled "I was bored"

"YOU WERE BORED!"

"Of course" Alfred laughed watching the enraged brit stare at him. "Oh come off of it Arthur" he laughed "Honestly today had to be a much more pleasant day than it would have been on the docks"

"I had work to do!"

"The docks will survive one day with you" Alfred shrugged placing his cup down and signaling for it to be refilled, as well as Arthurs. "But it was not as if I dragged you out here for complete nonsense. Today had nothing much to do with the actual work that goes on about the dock but a different kind of work" picking up his renewed beverage Alfred nursed the cup momentarily as if to gather his thoughts.

"Well if today's discussion did not involve the docks then what other work could it be about Master Jones?" Arthur responded, shoulders tense, legs restless.

"I want you to take on another job from me. Well drop the one you're doing and work specifically for me"

"Your joking" Arthur stared at the mind, swallowing as the expression the younger aristocrat war was of upmost seriousness.

"I am rather serious about the topic" He crossed long legs, clasping large hands over his knees. "When you fixed my jacket yesterday, the craftsmen ship unlike that I have ever had before. I currently have no personal seamstress and use the one that works for my close friend. But that is a lot of work for the girl and frankly, I really do prefer the stiches of those from England's learning rather than that of the French. I'm sure that what I am willing to pay you is more than that of what the dock pays you. You would only be sewing for me and if you feel up to it, that of my fiancée"

"No" was the flat response. The word fiancée threw Arthur for a brief loop. He was not aware in the least that the young jones was betrothed to a lady. Usually things such as large as that, even the workers would have heard such news from the rumor mill. But that was the least of the commoners worry.

"No?" Alfred stared at him in disbelief, he obviously wasn't the response that he had been expecting. "Well why not?

"I am quite content with what I am doing right now" Arthur said firmly placing his tea down as if to punctuate his fact.

"But I can raise your pay by double. And if you want me to then I can even triple that" Alfred pressed, leaning forward in his chair.

"It's not pay that I am worried about" Arthur frowned "I am quite comfortable where I am" The farther away that I can stay from the aristocrats the better.

"A stiff upper lip" Alfred murmured sinking back with a sigh. "No way to change your mind?"

"I am quite content where I am Master Jones" Arthur nodded.

"Well" it was the thrum of a large clock that caused silence to fall over the room. "It seems we are about to run out time. I can take you home"

"I" Arthur fell silent as the social repercussions flitted through his mind. "No, that is quite alright. I can walk from here"

"At least let me take you halfway home" he persisted and continued till the other male relented with a nod. The ride to where Arthur wished to be let go was tense and uneasy.

"Have a good evening Master Jones" Arthur nodded hopping down before his host could respond. The slight man shoved his hands into his pockets and joined the throng of people also heading home on after a day's work, not bothering to toss a look back at the man that he had spent the day with.

~ . ~

"Bonjour Mon Amie!" Francis entered the dining hall with flourish. "My day was full of wonderful things that lifted my heart and made it sing! I hope that your day provided you with the same feelings!" Dropping into the chair the long haired Frenchmen smiled at his friend. He offered seductive smiles to the wait staff ignoring the tired glare that the other gave him.

"It was a long and interesting day" Alfred swallowed a yawn. "Yet yours seemed rather pleasing" Alfred had immediately buried himself in his own study after he had split from Arthur. Though any studying that should have been completed had been lost amongst random scribbles and doodles across paper. Alfred was never one for much paperwork and reading. He much rather preferred to be out at the stables, saddling up a horse and going for a ride upon his lands or even practicing hand to hand combat with one of the burley stable hands. Yet as the sun began to slide down from the sky Berwald had interrupted the rabbit trails his mind had taken to remind him that Francis was attending dinner with him that evening. Alfred, having nothing better to do had made his way downstairs and settled into the dining room attempting to read that mornings paper, which he had neglected. It was not long however before Francis had shown up, a pleasant distraction from his own mind.

"Oh the last two days have been very enjoyable" Francis laughed "I met a dear young man from Quebec the day prior and met him with him yet again this very morning"

"Two days in a row, this one must be very entertaining" Alfred observed, brow arched in amusement. Leaning over and taking an approving whiff of the soup he partook of the meal happily as he listened to his friend go on and on about the blonde haired Canadian. It was rare for Francis to show much interest in a single, individual whether it be male or female so this fellow must be someone amazing.

"What is his family name?" Alfred asked as he cut into the duck before them with relish. Today's adventures had left him rather famished.

"Oh" Francis paused, lowering the wine glass "I have not a single clue" he shrugged "He is a commoner down at the bakery" that response had Alfred choking on his food.

"A commoner?! Francis you cannot be serious? Surely its humor" he coughed into his napkin. The shrug that was offered back to him left him quite puzzled. Francis was certainly a flirtatious man with anybody, male of female, as long as that anybody was of the correct status.

"Oh to be so stiff Alfred" Francis yawned with a wave of his hand "You cannot be truthful if you claim that you have never met an unnamed man that has never attracted your eyes" the grin spoke tales of intrusion as the youngest of the pair quickly averted his own attention to an unoccupied corner of the room.

" Oh hon" Francis laughed leaning against the table "let's hear it all mon Amie. If I am to share my day's treasures it is only polite for you to do as well"

"Sometimes I wonder if you were meant to be born a lady Francis. Your hunger for gossip is insatiable" Alfred sighed. The American aristocrat knew that no peace of mind would be given to him tonight if he did not tell his own tale. He feared that these conversations would follow them into the parlor and on into the night. So he may as well get started.


	4. Chapter 4

When Mathew came to he found himself alone in the home. This was not uncommon for him on a Sunday. Arthur woke up at the same time in the morning every single day of the week, even on the Sabbath. He always took morning walks on Sunday mornings, which left silence in the room that Mathew gladly took. It wasn’t that he felt that he needed space from the other but Arthur was a man that preferred to always be busy. Unlike his housemate he gladly hoarded the extra hours of sleep that was allowed him but one day a week. Mathew attended the church service that Arthur had attended upon his arrival in Massachusetts, the service taking place very late on Saturday evenings. It was a small church, being taught out of an old house. Not very orthodox, but it suited the pair quite nicely. It has also just so happened that the two of them shared the same faith. Arthur had been quite surprised to find that Mathew was not of Catholic faith. If he had been then Mathew was certain that the first time they had conversed with each other and the last.  
Stretching out with a groan a sigh of pleasure escaped as his back crackled. Relaxing back into the mattress his mind whirled over the possibilities that lay before him that day.¬ The strength of the sunlight that poured in the room and crawled over his bed suggested that it was nearly noon.

Deciding that it would not be the best course of action to lounge about all day in bed Mathew rolled onto his side cringing at the cool wood beneath his feet. Without a doubt he would be longing for the cool temperature once mid-day had hit and he would without a doubt find himself sweating, but for now it was a great discomfort considered to the previous coddle of his bed. Dressing himself and making his bed Mathew grabbed a single apple from the basket making his way outside. Scrunching his eyes against the bright light he shaded them momentarily with a hand held to his brow. Outside was busy, normal for this time of day, but it was a different sort of busy. Many people were dressed in their Sunday best or had just changed out from it and were in the process of a proper family outing. Nodding and waving hellos too many of them Mathew made his way down the street, lulled into a comfortable feeling at the Sunday atmosphere. 

He had found himself nervous and uncertain when he had arrived in Boston. It was very different from his home. Yet upon arrival it had not taken him long to run into Arthur and he supposed that he owed much of his easy transition and settlement. The culture and even everyday interactions were vastly different from what he was used to and even though Arthur was from London he had come to Boston with much knowledge of the workings there and showed him how to act. Probably saved him a bunch of trouble.   
With no specific destination in mind Mathew wandered aimlessly down the streets, humming quietly to himself paying no heed to the path he traveled upon. The road, packed down hard by the many people that had traveled over it every day since the city had been created. Vaguely registering the wheels of a carriage and the snorts of horses he moved to walk against the line of a fence that surrounded the massive lumber yard. It was quite today, the grunts of men and saws, no longer happening. Today the sun was bright, no clouds threatening to take the sunshine, a soft breeze offered reprieve from the heat and Mathew was certain that today was going to be a stress free day.

“Oh Mon dieu. What a surprise! Bonjour Mathew!” the voice, to Mathew’s startle was one that he knew immediately.

“Bonjour Monsieur Francis” Mathew offered a strained smile as the sound of the wheels that he had moved over for came to an abrupt halt. Lowering the apple he swallowed and found himself staring up into the smiling face of the Frenchmen.

“To think in a mere few days we went from never having met to seeing each other three days in a row."

“Y-yes what a strange occurrence” he looked around quickly at the others along the street. He really hated to be stared at. Hopefully they would just assume that the aristocrat had merely stopped for directions.

“Looking for someone?”

“Ah, no”

“Heading somewhere in particular?”

“Ah, no..”

“Magnifique!” he laughed pushing open the door and gesturing at the opposite male. “Come with me”

“Excuse me?” Mathew gaped at the man with astonishment. Blanching he stepped back as hand in a glove white as snow extended to him.

“Oh no secrets this time Monsieur Mathew” he smiled “I am on my way to dinner and find that eating with another is more pleasant that eating by one’s self.” He smiled brightly, one foot outside of the carriage on the step, hand still extended. No malicious, or trace of mocking could be found anywhere upon his face. He was genuine. “It would be my pleasure” he added, tone rolling with persistence. 

“O-oh um” Mathew murmured nervously. This was something that he had not expected in the least to happen to him on a Sunday walk. Hell, it wasn’t something that he would have expected to happen to him in the entirety of his life. To remain in his comfort he would prefer to refuse but…the man seemed so set on having him and it would be rude to refuse an invite that was put forth so willingly. “Alright. If you’ll have me” he reached up placing his hand into the others, grunting in surprise was he was pulled upwards with gusto.

“Of course I’ll have you! I offered you did I not?” Francis laughed yanking the door closed and tapping the roof of the carriage once more. With a jolt the carriage began rolling down the street once more. 

Mathew looked nervously down at his feet, happy for the length of his hair as it would cover his face. He was worried some from the street would catch a glimpse of him and rumors would spread. He had no desire to be the talk of the town. It didn’t help that he felt the weight of Francis’s eyes on him, staring. No words for exchanged for the duration of the ride yet each party seemed to be comfortable with the lack of exchange, a silent mutual agreement.

“No need to be so tense” Francis broke the silence “I hope you can feel comfortable. This is merely a meal between friends”

“Friends?” Mathew repeated still looking downwards, praying the suspicious tone in his voice was not overpowering. Honestly, Arthur’s paranoia and distrust must be getting to me. Yet neither party got to continue the conversation.

It was only the lurch of the carriage and the snorts of the horses that gave Mathew the courage to look up once more. The lands, sprawling, large and oh so ever green. Gripping the window Mathew gawked at the cobble stoned walks framed by manicured lawns that house statues that served as fountains. The man found himself struck dumb by the picturesque lay out before him.

“You know we can actually walk out there if we would just exit the carriage” an amused town had the Canadian leaning back against his seat, a colorful shade of rose. It only deepened at another chuckle as the footmen hopped down and opened the door to the vehicle. Nodding his thanks he allowed the smiling, almost bouncing, and man to help him out of the carriage.

“Merci Feliciano” Francis murmured, more intent upon watching his guest.

“Of course! Of course” the short brunette beamed and waved wildly with abandonment as a much stiffer of a man approached them.

“Feliciano is my footman and stable master” Francis explained quietly as Mathew’s expression switched from awe to speculation. “And this fellow here, my butler, Vash”

“Feliciano shouldn’t you be doing something more productive! Like perhaps your job!” the butler shouted and spurred the brunette into panicked action, scrambling back into his seat to get the horses moving.

“Welcome home Monsieur Francis” Vash greeted tightly with a bow. “I was unaware that we would be serving a guest” his hard gaze focused on the new blonde, causing Mathew to squirm slightly. This man seemed to be one of those on short fuse.

“Ah neither did I” Francis shrugged tossing a lock of hair of his shoulder with careless ease “I just happened upon Monsieur Mathew while I was on my way back and decided it would be much more pleasant to have someone to talk with while I dinned.”

“It is no problem Monsieur. I will tell the kitchen staff to place out another setting. We always have more prepared in lieu of sudden arrivals of Monsieur Gilbert and Monsieur Antonio.” With another bow he led them across the pull through, up chiseled steps and into the foyer before disappearing in the direction of what Mathew assumed was the kitchen.

“I-I don’t mean to be a bother” Mathew turned to Francis quickly, panic lighting violet eyes. 

“Nonsense! Plus how can an invited guest be of bother” Francis counteracted. Yet his words painted with surety did nothing to calm Mathew’s nerves. Then is hit the Frenchmen like a ton of bricks, Mathew was way out of his normal scenery. With that a candle seemed to light inside his mind and he beamed at the boy. “Mathew how would you like to see my kitchens?”

“I” he looked startled none the less.

“My pastry chef would be preparing the sweets for later right about now and I’m sure he would have no problem letting us observe” Francis was pleased. Mathew’s reaction was exactly what he had been hoping for. Excitement and curiosity lit round, innocent features and he nodded his agreement. Gesturing for him to follow Francis moved down the hall, passing several doors until he came to one that was wrought with muffled noise beyond. “Bonjour tout le monde” (Hello everybody) he called pushing the door open.   
It was as if actors on a stage had paused in sync, after many hours of rehearsal. Shocked eyes locked onto the aristocrat and immediately waists double to bow and a chorus of welcome rose like a tidal wave. “Go on” Francis waved with mock chastising. “I am only here to speak with Lovino” it seemed as if it was not common for Francis to enter the servant’s areas. 

“Pardon” Mathew murmured as he followed Francis between the servants. The respect that the servants held for Francis was very obvious to the Canadian. That was until Francis stopped at a man who was working separate from the others. Banging the rolling pin in his hand across the table he slapped his floured hands upon the half apron.  
“What do you want?” a short brunette grouched from a steel table, hands propped grumpily upon his hips as he all but glared at the pair. His accent was different, yet identical to the man, whose name he couldn’t quite remember at the moment. Mathew shocked but one quick glance from the corner of his eye told him that being spoken to this way by the man was a normality.

“Bonjour Lovino” Francis sighed moving through the maze made of kitchen tables and bodies. “He is Feliciano’s older brother” he murmured to Mathew before turning his attention solely forward once more “I have brought my friend here to see what you are preparing today”

“Is it because you’re worried he is not going to like it” Lovino frowned, glaring at Mathew.

“Not in the least Lovino. But you know those pastries I brought you two days ago”

“Ya the pinwheels”

“Well he is the one who made them” at Francis’s words Mathew swore that the Italian’s glare only intensified. 

“You made those?” He barked and Mathew could only nod quickly, his voice failing him at that particular point in time. Lovino glared at him, and did the same to Francis “So what do you want me to do with him?”

“Ah like I said, we just came to see what you were preparing. Dinner is not quite ready yet I thought it would a wonderful way to pass the time” Francis shrugged. His attention turned back to Mathew who by this time was looking around him in awe. 

“What you gawking at idiot!” Lovino snapped waving a spatula. Mathew shrunk back slightly, startled once again.

“I was just looking at the oven and all the items” he muttered quietly “I’ve never seen so many before”

“This place is nothing!” he snorted “Nothing compared to the kitchens back at my home. This place is puny!” he spat tossing the spatula onto the table as he turned towards the ovens. “Stay out of my way” he grunted grabbing thick towels. Open one of the ovens he reached in to only pull out a stone seconds later.

“Ah tea pastry’s” Mathew murmured looking at the shapes on the pan.

“At least you’re not blind idiot” Lovino snapped, Mathew shoving his hands in his pockets and stepping back. 

“Should we not be here right now” he murmured to Francis “he seems to be in a rather turbulent mood”

“Ah. No it is alright he is always like this”

“Really?”

“Yes. Lovino is…how you say, a man with a disposition towards being ill tempered” Francis flicked his hand as if to wave away the waves of doubt and concern rolling from the Canadian. “Well how about we head out, it seems as if the dinner is just about done” he motioned towards the maids that seemed to be reaching for plates inside of tall kitchen cabinets. 

“Yes Monsieur” Mathew followed the Frenchman quickly through the same door that they had entered the kitchens through. Shoes making almost no noise against the plush blood red carpet of the hall. Yet despite the large contrast in the quiet hall verses the kitchen it was the scents that threw him for a loop. Whereas the kitchen was a melody of smells, roasting, baking, simmering ect. The hall was its own song of floral. It was then that Mathew finally took notice of the large amounts of vases placed purposefully upon tables. The bouquets were large and loud.

Overflowing with everything from roses to lilies. Mathew dared to claim that if this hall was any indication of the rest of the manor then there were more flowers inside here than inhabitants of Boston. Upon entering the dining hall Mathew was not caught by surprise in the least as it was also lined with flowers. The table inside was large and Francis motioned for him to take a seat at a chair that had been placed next to one stationed at the head of the oak table. Slipping into the chair with nervous movements, Mathew settled in more comfortably as the smell of bake bread that came with what seemed like their first course entered the room. The smell was comfortable, familiar in such an alien place.

“Oh do relax Mathew.” Francis pouted at him over the bread and soup that was set before them. “There is no need for you to be nervous. You act as if someone is going to come out and beat you about with a stick or something” pulling the napkin from the table to splay it across his lap with a deploring look.

“It’s just a lot to take in at once” Mathew sighed, blanching as he finally noticed the plate setting. Why was there more than one spoon and fork there? Confused the man looked at Francis who pointed to the one he was using then the identical utensil in Mathew’s own array. Nodding a silent thanks Mathew picked up the spoon, rolling it between his fingers.

“Are you alright?” Francis asked, voice laced with worry. Blue eyes were wide with concern stared at the Canadian. 

“Everything is quite alright. It’s just” he motioned about the room “a lot to take in at once. Thank you for inviting me” he said quickly. Embarrassed that it had taken him so long to thank his host.

“Oh it is nothing” Francis smiled “It certainly is my pleasure” he watched the other French speaking male take his first bite. Delight, unabashed brought a smile to Mathew’s face.  
“This is fantastic” he gushed looking at Francis. “I’ve never had something so flavorful! This is perfectly blended. And the bread is perfect! Firm crust and soft inside!” Mathew fell silent, embarrassed as he realized how excited he had become over the food at the table. “I-I’m sorry that was out of turn” he stared in horror as Francis burst into laughter.

“Oh mon dieu!” the man began to laugh so hard that tears gathered in his eyes. He leaned backwards into his chair laughing hard behind his hands “You became so adamant! I did not know you were so excitable!” nearly doubling over he continued to laugh much to Mathew’s distress.

“It wasn’t that funny” he protested clutching at the edge of the table in embarrassment. 

“P-pardon that just struck me right” Francis chuckled whipping at his eyes, apologizing again. The servants seemed to be tossing looks at each other of puzzlement frosted with their own amusement. Mathew felt his ears burn as the next meal was exchanged out. Mathew looked at the man, yet the embarrassment couldn't hold down the smile that crept onto his face. Francis talked to the maid that was in charge of their current course. The aristocrat spoke to the woman with a level of respect that Mathew was surprised to see. Yes, it was obvious that the master, servant relationship was in solid effect. Yet, no malice or over controlling actions came from him in that situation. Francis smiled as he caught Mathew watching. It seemed as if the rest of that meal would continue to be pleasant. As society would require the pair was directed to another area. 

“Let’s finish outside shall we?” Francis smiled and Vash appeared once again leading them through another door that lead out to an extravagant yard. A set of cushioned chairs and couches were strategically placed on top of rough cut white stone.

“Even more flowers” Mathew commented looking at the overly large pots overflowing with floral arrangements. The Frenchmen only smiled gesturing to one of the couches. Settling down into the seat Mathew smiled slightly nervous as Francis sat down on the cushion right next to him. “Ah the pastries Monsieur Lovino was preparing.” Picking one up off the platter that was set in front of them he inspected the pastry. “He added different jelled fruits” he said surprised.

“Ah yes, he makes these rather often, I find these be my favorite” Francis plucked his own pastry from the plate, consuming the treat with subtle delight. Accepting the cup of coffee that was pressed in front of them. Declining the drink Mathew opted for plan glass of water in its stead, still finding it uncomfortable to being waited on with such fervor. “Is something that you think you could make?”

“Oh I have made this before” Mathew answered. “It was one of the first pastries that Monsieur Wright instructed me to create” he took a bite, tasting the pastry “Though Monsieur Lovino’s are of a much higher quality than that of the one’s that I have ever created”

“Lovino has been baking them for the entire three years that he was been employed for me and I think that he has been baking sweets since he was much younger”  
“He would be quite the teacher to tutor underneath” he mused looking at the pastry with speculation.

“That would be a fantastic idea” Francis murmured.

~ .~

It was Arthur moving about once again that woke Mathew from his slumber. He was thankful that Arthur was such a light sleeper, cause it made getting up on time in the mornings that much easier.

“Good morning” the Brit smiled. “You slept like a rock last night” he chuckled lacing up his boots. “Honestly Mathew you were out the minute you lay down” he moved across the room to pack their midday meals. Arthur listened to the hurried movements behind him. Reaching back the sack was once again, as every morning, pulled from his hand paired with a hurried goodbye and the banging of the door. “Honestly, that boy. Such good mannerisms but he is a tad on the pressed side. He can’t seem to wake up earlier than before the last moment. But yesterday he had seemed to be much more tired than normal. The boy had said he had gone for a walk and had spent time with a friend. He was positive the boy had a much larger story to tell, but, frankly it wasn't any of his business Shrugging into his jacket he used the movement to shrug away the thought process as well. Raking his fingers in futile effort through his hair he said good morning to his neighbor he mindlessly joined the throng of bodies like every other morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudo and a comment


	5. Chapter 5

Despite the brief speculation, Arthur thought no more of the incident. Nimble fingers taking up the edge of the skirt he began to stitch a very simple stitch. Thinking on it would do nothing, but slow his hand and lengthen the amount of time these two stayed on the docks; in his way. 

However, Arthur paused as he felt the weight of a gaze on him. Up through tousled bangs, he was surprised to find the young Master Jones watching him. As if watching someone Stitch was the riveting Sparta football or something again. Thinking quickly he looked back down, a flustered and now nervous sweat dampening his nape. The boy was odd, that opinion needed no further inquisition. First, he dragged Arthur from the docks out of boredom, offered him a new job and now he returned the next day. Maybe the Aristocrat was bored and had decided that Arthur was the commoner to play with the moment. Clenching his teeth, the British man kept his face neutral. He didn't need the boys asking questions, he needed him gone! and why was he bringing a woman here of all places?' Honestly, the boy knew nothing. Arthur would be surprised if the ripping of the woman's dress was the only thing to go amiss on the docks today. Every Seaman knew that when it came to the ship and sea, a woman only brought one thing, bad luck. Arthur finally looked up at the woman who he was kneeling in front of. Stone. That was the word that came to mind upon sighting her. Briefly, his mind flipped through pages, the tale of a woman named Medusa floating to the front of his thoughts. 

 

Her hair, the color of flax was long in length, despite it being pulled back into the not her name, it was voluminous and perfect. Her skin, pale with powder was smooth and spoke of care. No wrinkles crease to the stone-like features. An expression was in the eyes. Her eyes, blue like her fiance's yet while the boys could be compared to that a forever Skies of sunshine and promise, her spoke of turbulent oceans slapped and stirred by storms and the Rage of Poseidon himself. It was a cold Beauty, one that would stop any man and cause him to stare. At the same time, terrifying. It invoked none of the same warmth that men were told the woman would bring their bed and household. Avoiding her eyes, Arthur quickly snapped the thread before he could be caught staring. He had no desire to know the consequences of meeting her gaze and what they would be. " there you are madam" he announced pushing to his feet. He watched silently as she peered down at his handiwork. 

 

" it is passable," she said, peering up at him. " Alfred you did not introduce me properly," she said crisply as she stared Arthur down. The British man swallowed as Alfred laugh with embarrassment and rubbed the back of his neck. 

 

" yes, very rude of me." He cleared his throat. " Mr. Kirkland, this is my fiancé the Lady Arlovskaya." 

 

"Pleasure," Arthur bowed at the waist, the gears of his mind clicking- furiously. That last name he was more than familiar with. It was the surname of iron, the largest name in all of the iron industry. Rather a name related to it, to be more specific. That means the woman in front of him was the half-sister of Ivan Braginski. A tall and imposing young man who he had only heard rumors about. The head of the Braginski family had passed 3 years ago and the only son took over the small industrial Empire with an iron fist. Rumors floating around that if you had found him unworthy to take the position and they had tried to assault the young Heir, only to be taken in by Medics with ugly wounds but the police suspected it was from an iron pipe. Ever since then the young entrepreneur experienced attacks or questions regarding his position or rightful inheritance. Honestly, Arthur wouldn't either. 

 

" well thank you for your assistance." The woman stood up in a huff of skirts. " but we really must be going." She said a sniff punctuating the end of her sentence. 

 

" yes, thank you, Mr. Kirkland." Alfred's voice breaking the sudden chill that had settled over the small dock office. "Dear, can you head to the carriage on your own? I need to discuss work with Mr. Kirkland." The young man flashed a smile at the woman that Arthur was certain would have had most women swooning ( and any gentleman who favorite gentlemen) yet the ice like women merely scowled in annoyance but gave him a nod. 

 

" do hurry along, we do have things to do." With a whirl skirts in the heavy scent of perfume, the woman exited the office. The air in the room seemed to lighten considerably. 

 

" yeah, sorry about that. Your sister always makes her tense." Alfred smiled an apology for his fiancee. Arthur couldn't help but watch the man of her moment. The mail in front of him spoke of perfect decorum, crafted by Society. However, the lad could not stop the twitch at the corner of his mouth or the emotion in his eyes. 

 

" so, you need to talk to me about work?" Arthur asked carefully. He watched as the younger male huffed and raked his fingers through his hair. I shift into the door and back. The boy looked nervous and Arthur was surprised to find that it was coming. Aristocrats were crafted into seemingly perfect individuals If eased the nerves, reminding those of the lower class that aristocrats were indeed human. Not that Arthur would know anything of the sort. He reminded himself of the own costume he wore. Amusing, he thought to himself. A wolf in sheep's clothing. 

Arthur found all of this reassuring. The aristocratic boy was so open with his emotions Arthur felt the majority of his tension see out of his muscles and leaned back against the desk, Ingalls Crossing his arms to go somewhere position. With the boy quiet and his normal cockiness gone, for a split-second Arthur found himself mildly confused. He had to look for more than a second, beyond the spectacles Master Jones wore. Imagining the boy with longer hair and a quiet disposition. Alfred looked just like Matthew. Arthur swallowed and blinked rapidly. So odd. " so you wish to look at the logs?" Arthur asked turning behind him to the pen covered sheets across the desk. 

Alfred allowed his thoughts to wander for the brief moment the opposite blonde pulled files. Arthur had known him for what three, maybe four days?   
At first, Alfred allowed his thoughts to wander for the brief moment the opposite blonde pulled files. Are there had known him for what three, maybe four days? The first time the British man had seen him. This week was not the first time Alfred had been to the Docks, but prior to this, he'd always been in his father's shadow. He had seen Arthur months ago and found himself enamored in an instant. Or if there had been arguing with a brown haired man who had his arm around her shoulder. Just like British man had been yelling at the other whose name he now who was William. His emotions were uncurbed and Alfred had been hooked. Anyone who looked at Arthur would realize that he experienced some kind of etiquette training in this past. Or even with his dealings with the other dockworkers, his movements and mannerisms were unmistakably polished. However the man's emotions, ranging and open, something he'd never seen on another gentleman before. The man's emotions were extreme and every manner, even when he composed emotions scratched at window panes of emeralds beneath thick blonde eyelashes. Alfred had been intrigued and the emotion had never left his mind in regards to the Englishman. 

"Master Jones?" 

"Ah yes" Alfred focused, washing annoyance light the others eyes as he lifted the logs up to eye level. 

"You said that you needed to speak with me in regards to work yes?" 

"Yes." Alfred exhaled. He was going to try again. "But of dock work exactly" he began with a swallow "Let me finish" he said quickly as Arthur opened his mouth.   
"I asked you to be my tailor not only for your skill, but because I need a set of eyes" Alfred watched with no surprise as emerald eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I need to know my company, those men that are going to be working for me. Their complaints, the things they are happy with and what they really think. But I know that I will not get truths from them because of who I am. But you, despite your rising position are one of them. You hear things and see happenings that I will never will because of that" Alfred said seriously. "If you work with me as my tailor there will be no suspicion surrounding the time spent together and both parties will benefit. I do not need an answer tonight, but with this new information I would like you to reconsider. Think it over. " Alfred finished with a clench of his jaw. 

"You wish me to spy in the other men?" Arthur blinked in disbelief, looking at the wealthy boy. 

"No, not spy" Alfred protested firmly "Eyes, I need someone to tell me what I can't see or hear. That way not only are my buyers happy but so that my workers are. Happy men do better work and better work is better handled items, faster times and in turn better buyers. Just better. "Picking up his hat Alfred moved towards the door. "Just think on it. I will be back the day after tomorrow. Please consider it" Alfred pressed once more an exited the office, closing the door behind him he let out a breath that he didn't know he had been holding. Placing the hat on his head, sliding one hand into his pocket he headed towards the carriage where Natalya was certainly waiting. Impatiently. 

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

 

Mathew hummed under his breath as he worked dough across the counter. Another special order had come in for pick up that afternoon. They had become surprisingly busy as of late, which he was more than happy with. That mean the french-canadian had more time in the kitchen. It sounded as if his boss had found a lady he fancied so he was more than fine with running the deliveries and leave Matthew in charge of the shop and kitchen. Sniffing twice Mathew tossed a towel over the bread on the counter next to the stone oven; it was time to let it rise. Grabbing the peel at his hip he pulled open the oven and made to remove the rolls from inside. He was vaguely aware of the jingle of the bell above the door "I shall be with you in just a moment" Matthew called out, eyes trained upon the task at hand. Pleased with the golden color of the crust he slid the pieces off to cool. He was certain that if he gaze each one a slight squeeze they would crackle audibly in the delightful sound of a properly cooked roll. In his opinion instruments and human voices were not the only things that could create beautiful sounds. Slapping his hands against the apron covering his thighs, he rid fingers of excess flour and headed to the front counter. "Good Afternoon, how may I be o-" he felt the words die in the back of his throat. Out of all people he expected to grace the little shop, he was least expecting such a new acquaintance. Even a chef, specifically Lovino Vargas. 

The Italian stood with crossed arms, nose scrunched with apparent disappointment soaked in disgust as he surveyed the small shop. "And I am to believe that those pastries come from...this...shop" 

"Um" Mathew Williams suddenly found himself the unfortunate victim of Chef Vargas's glare.With two small nods, Matthew silently answered the question, almost wishing himself to be invisible. Many of time people overlooked him, he was often forgotten next to his rather brusk British friend. Much to his dismay this is a common occurrence, the right now he would prefer such an incident." Is there something I can do for you, Chef Vargas?" Matthew watched the man carefully. 

" yes, I need you to quit this place." He scowled, turning to the blue-eyed blonde. Those blue eyes you're such a unique shape that they appeared a hue of violet depending on the light. 

"Y-y you want me to quit?" Matthew stared at the man. " I can't quit my job I need this job make money. I-" 

"You'll have another job" Lovino interrupted. I have decided that I need an apprentice and master Francis seems to have taken a liking to your pastries and has asked for me to train a sous chef and I've decided to not waste my time and look for one. You have some training so I want you to be that. I have no desire to waste my time teaching the basics. You will be paid, far higher wages then you are now and you shall reside at the Manor as do the rest of the staff-" 

" excuse me but I cannot do that" this time it was Matthew who interrupted " I cannot just up and move, and I have a dear friend who relies on me just as I rely on him." 

" you have not said no to becoming my Apprentice" Lavino responded and Matthew blinked. " I have already spoken with your boss, and he will be aided until he can hire a new individual" he narrowed his eyes at Matthew " you can figure out housing at a later time I suppose. I guess you can stay where you are for now." 

" when do you need an answer?" Matthew asked heavily. 

" Now. It starts tomorrow." 

"Alright," Matthew nodded even surprising himself. He was not the one to make rash decisions of any sort. He felt and it should his fingertips, similar to when he moved when he met Arthur and when he took this job with the small bakery. He nodded once again as if to affirm his statement, even if it was for personal affirmation. "I shall be The Apprentice. Thank you for the offer." 

" Just don't waste my time. Be at the kitchens tomorrow by sunrise. I will let the rest of the staff know what is happening so they should let you in without any problems in the morning." Lavino pushing the door open as he called over his shoulder, bidding him a good day. He let the door swing shut behind himself with a bang, leaving Matthew to stare after him and quiet shock. The French-Canadian found himself saturated in disbelief. Matthew looked over his shoulder at the telltale smell reaching his nose. Much longer and the rolls would burn, it would be best to pull them now. He was suddenly weary as if today was going to take long to finish......

"oh, good evening Arthur." Matthew turn from the small wood stove as the British man closed the door behind him, rubbing his hands over a tired face.   
" good evening Matthew." Arthur gave the boy one of his rare smiles. " I have much to tell you about my day" he stretched towards the ceiling before moving to unlace his boots. 

" well tonight, dinner should be full of tales as I need to tell you things as well. I made an important decision today, it will benefit both of us that I am sure of." He blinked in surprise as Arthur looked up from his boots. 

"As do I"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fell out of the hetalia universe for awhile but now that I am back in it, this and my collab work have picked back up. Sorry for the delay.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, Thanks for reading my story! Leave me a comment and tell me what you think! Enjoy


End file.
